Misc.+-+Stampede+Starters

Submit your miscellaneous pieces to this page. Indicate any text features you want and then placed a solid line at the bottom of your submission. Be sure to include your name. Summer Institute 2009 Persistence Pays Nancy Sturm  As the door to my portable classroom opened, a gust of wintry air captured the papers on my desk. I looked up from grading essays to see Jessie rushing through the door, her dark hair whipping around her head. I wondered what kind of creative excuse she would offer for missing my junior honors English class earlier that day. She hurried across the room, talking a mile a minute. “Ms. Sturm, I came to tell you why I missed class today. I really like your class; I wasn’t skipping, honest. You see, Casey and me, we were worried about our friend. She said she was going to commit suicide….” //Suicide//? Alarm bells clanged in my head. Her friend had been talking about committing suicide? Does she realize how many teens follow through on their suicide threats? I wondered how I could intervene and help. “…didn’t show for third hour we were worried. We went to her house to check up on her. Honest. That’s all we were doing. So since I wasn’t skipping your class, can I get my make up work? Please?” “Jessie, this is more important than your English grade. Do you realize how serious your friend’s situation might be?” “Oh, my friend‘s great! Casey and me just came from her house. Can I get my work?” Still trying to intervene, I questioned her. “Jessie, will you give me your friend‘s name?” “No, I can‘t.” “Jessie, have you told an adult who knows your friend? What about your Mom or Dad or your friend’s parents?” “Oh, no, I couldn’t do that. We promised we wouldn’t tell. We promised! I wouldn’t have told you except I need my make up work. She won’t do anything stupid. Honest.” For the next fifteen minutes I pleaded with her, whispering inaudible prayers the whole time. My heart silently screamed at me not to let her out of my room until she promised to tell a trusted adult. “What about Mrs. Cable, the school counselor? Have you confided in her? You know she’s trained to deal with potential suicides and she knows how to keep everything confidential.” Calm on the outside, I was beginning to feel desperate inside and prayed that Jessie would talk with Mrs. Cable and divulge the friend’s name. At long last Jessie relented. “Okay Ms. Sturm. Since you insist, I’ll go tell Mrs. Cable, and I’ll tell her my friend’s name. Now can I get my make up assignment?” Quickly I gave her the day’s work and sent her to the counselor’s office. Several days passed before Jessie popped back into my room after school to tell me what had happened. “Ms. Sturm, you’ll never guess what happened at Mrs. Cable’s.” “What happened, Jessie? Is your friend alright?” “I went to the counselor’s office. Thank you for making me go.” I smiled to myself. I wasn’t aware I had **made** her go, but I was grateful she did. “Good for you Jessie. You did the right thing. So what happened?” “Right away Mrs. Cable called her mom. I was so scared we’d get in trouble…. As she spoke I pictured the girl’s mother receiving Mrs. Cable’s call.

*  “Yes, this is her mother….No, there are no problems….What? Suicide? That’s crazy! My daughter would never….Yes, I’m listening….Jessie said? Oh. Yes, my daughter’s here. She’s upstairs in her room. She’s fine. Really….No, she’s not depressed! No….No….Well, if you insist.” She stomped upstairs to her daughter’s room, muttering under her breath. "Can't believe the gall of that counselor! Not my daughter!" Reaching her daughter's closed bedroom door, she rapped lightly. "Honey, can I come in? Hon? It's Mom." After waiting a few moments, she rapped again. No response. Slowly she opened her daughter's door. A loud, animal-like screech wrenched itself from the depths of her gut, and escaped unbidden out of her mouth, "Noooooooooooooo!" She flew to her daughter's inert form lying on the floor near her bed, the open pill bottle by her hand.

*

 Jessie continued her story, "We heard her scream and Mrs. Cable called 911 and they came and revived my friend and took her to the hospital. Ms. Sturm, I want to thank you for saving my friend's life. The doctor said she would have died in another hour. She's out of the hospital now and getting counseling. Thank you for making me tell. You saved her life. Thank you. Thank you.” With that farewell Jessie flew out the door, letting it bang shut. In the quiet of my empty room I shed my tears. I never learned the name of her friend, but I know she's alive today because of a persistent teacher.

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White Space Jennifer Wolff third paragraph, second line please italicize "We"

“Remember to leave spaces between your words.” How many papers have been returned this year with the same message? The scrawled, uneven letters began at the top of the page and ended, unceremoniously, somewhere around the middle. Another half page journal entry completed, ready to be deciphered; individual words blurred together, void of any perceivable breaks. Where to start? How to find meaning? The letters, neither joined together nor separated, never made it to communication.

White space—in music, it’s a rest. In conversation, it’s an awkward silence…or a comfortable one. And don’t forget the pregnant pause. On paper, we indent to change direction. We double space and change margins for readability or to seemingly inflate volume. We leave spaces between words. The emptiness itself adds definition.

Perhaps empty is not an accurate description of that space at all. What lives there that breathes life into a piece of paper or energy into discourse, that creates the rhythm of existence? Joy. Fear. Pride. Faith. Despair. Love. Hope. We live there. Our dreams, our insecurities, our goals, our beliefs are all present in the pauses that break through the chaos surrounding us. Remember to leave spaces…

“Debt Relief”

By Jeff H. Roper

I hung up the phone with the VISA people. They looked at our current debt picture. After putting both kids through college, we have $41,000 worth of debt. Ugh! Jesus. How did this happen? So I’m going to solve this crisis in just one year. Here are my ten easy steps to pay it off in a year:

Step one: Sell my somewhat new Volvo = $3,000. Buy a bike $200.00. Net savings $2,800.00.

Step two: I will only have a salad and iced tea for lunch. Save $7.00 X 30 days = $210.00 X 12 months = $2,520.00.

Step three: Grab my guitar, a few dollar bills, and some coins. I will set up shop singing and writing songs this summer in downtown Wichita at Douglas and Broadway. Earn $10.00/day X 60 days = $600.00.

Step four: Sell the house and live out of Vicky’s car. After paying off the mortgage in this economy, $10,000.00 left and no more house payments $1,000 X 12 m12,000.00.

Step five: Hold a huge one day garage sale. Sell everything in our house. Followed by a huge bonfire that night, burning everything that does not sell. Net proceeds $500.00.

Step six: Sell Vicky’s car (oops, now we don’t have a place to live) and buy her a bike to get to work on the complete other side of town. Drop the YMCA membership too; we’ll be too busy riding our bikes--$1,000 for the car minus $200.00 for another bike purchase = $800.00, plus $40.00/mo Y membership X 12 =$480.00.

Step seven: Stop going to movies $9.00/ticket X 2 - $18.00 plus $10.00 for diet coke and popcorn X 1.5/weekend X 52 weekends = $2,000.00. Wow, big savings…

Step eight: Sell our 11 yr old Chocolate lab Charlie Brown. No more dog food or once/yr. visits to the vet = $500/yr.

Step nine: No out of town travel expenses to visit our children $2,000.00.

So far that has amounted to $34,000 in revenue to pay off the $41,000 in debt in one year. It leaves me with $7,000 to go.

Step ten: Since my son is getting a new promotion at his work, I will start billing him for the use of my parenting skills or lack thereof and the general costs he has created for me during the past twenty-four years. I’ll tell him that I’m billing him $7,000 for one year only. Let’s round that number up to $8,000. Now divide that by 12 months...oh, screw it; the math is too complicated. I knew there was a reason I became an English teacher. The kid will owe me $1,000/month for a year = $12,000. The rest I’ll put in savings.

That should just about do it! “Honey, on June 23rd, 2010, we are home-free!”

GETTING BACK TO NOWHERE By Jonette Shuja I come from the middle of Nowhere. Getting back there to see my family can sometimes prove adventurous. After all, most itineraries don’t include Nowhere. Nowhere is a dot out in cowboy country. I’m talking about an "if you close your eyes, you’ve missed it" kind of place. The holidays were upon us, and Daughter and I had a hankering to get home to Nowhere. From Chicago, dots out in cowboy country are arduous treks. Daughter and I chose the train ride, which, when paired with a two hour drive, would get us to Nowhere. Upon arriving, we found the train station buzzing with my caring family: Mom, Dad, Niece, Nephew, Brother John, and Sister-in-law Tammy, who had all come at dawn to whisk us home in John and Tammy’s fire engine colored mini van known as Little Red. A truck stop caf é provided nourishment for the trip home. Smorgasbord is a favorite word in cowboy country, and this one boasted hash browns, biscuits, gravy, pancakes, and several egg dishes. Six foot tall cowboys can stash a lot of grub. Talk at the table was fitted in around the comings and goings to the serving area. "The weather in Chicago was cloudy," said I. "Excuse me, I just need a few more hash browns," announced Nephew. "They were predicting snow," I finished. "Since you’re getting up, would you bring me some jelly," asked Niece. "It’s been nippy down home," said Dad. "I’ll try the biscuits," voiced Mom. "Snow’s suppose to pass north of us though," continued Dad. "Anybody for more of them pancakes," suggested John. "Hate to see it pass us," Dad rambled on. "Those scrambled eggs look good." commented Tammy. "The wheat could sure use some moisture," finished Dad. "Ready to go?" questioned Mom as she looked around the table and observed our plates had been pushed back. We clambered over and around long legged cowboys and their chairs which were every which way to accommodate trips to the buffet and conversation. The food critics in Chicago would definitely call this "casual dining." Dusty boots and work worn jeans were the outfit of choice here. Designer labels touted on Michigan Avenue would never be in style. Little Red, the mini van, stood out from the dull colored pick-ups loaded with hay. Luxury sedans and sports coupes were a rarity out here. This was another time and place. I pictured it as being the Old West. Instead of sliding into a mini van, I climbed into a stage coach. Tammy was the driver. I’m sure she called out, "Giddy up, Little Red!" We left the town and journeyed into a landscape of plains. John took a dip of snuff as he assumed his role of roughshod. Instead of a rifle, he had a spittoon at hand. We dropped into a valley like area. Houses and cars were few and far between. We seemed to be the only humans for miles. I wondered if there were bandits in those hills surrounding us? "Why don’t cha turn off up here, Tammy," John paused to spit, then resumed, "and we’ll see some buffalo." Buffalo are best viewed on the opposite side of a big, strong fence. As Little Red crossed the cattle guard and onto the pasture track, the separating fence was left behind. I realized we might be getting up close and too personal.. That same thought came to all of us passengers. We squirmed in our seats with apprehension. John and Tammy were oblivious to us. They were the stagecoach hands out to show the greenhorns a good time. "Keep goin’, Tammy," John was literally spitting out the words. "Them buffalo gotta be here somewhere." Those of us in the back of the stagecoach were praying hard that the buffalo would fail to appear. "Oh, please get us home in one piece," Mom mumbled. As Little Red did all she could to climb uphill, the buffalo peered over a rim of the hills. Did they think that the chuck wagon had arrived? They headed towards us at a quick trot. They must be the bandits that I had speculated could be lurking in the hills. "Here they are! Now, ain’t them purty critters," enthused John. Flash something red in front of a bull and he charges. These looked like bulls only much bigger, and here was Little Red flashing in front of them. Pancakes, biscuits, and hash browns began churning inside my tummy. Oh, how I hoped those buffalo weren’t going to charge! "Whoa," Tammy called as she pulled in the reins. Our stage coach stopped in its tracks as the buffalo continued their fast approach. "We’d best get out of here," offered Mom. Tammy whipped out her camera and snapped a picture of the oncoming buffalo. John grabbed the camera as Tammy poised the stage coach to turn around. In the back, we were beginning to feel safe at the thought of getting our tails out of there. "Let ‘em git a little closer, Tammy," directed John, "this picture just ain’t the best." Six sets of mouths dropped open as the hungry buffalo continued right towards us. "Click," went the camera. "Come on Little Red!" Tammy called out as she turned sharply. Dodging sage brush and ruts we circled around and bounced back onto the track. "This picture ain’t so clear, but I guess it’ll do. Or, should we take another?" questioned John. "Lets get out of here!" chorused those of us in the back. Buffalo are smart, kind animals. They stopped coming when we retreated. We had no food and they weren’t taking revenge for not being fed. Little Red turned onto the highway, once more a mini van, her pretense as a stage coach disappearing as we clanked over the cattle guard.. Our adventure added an extra hour to our journey. None the worse for wear and tear, getting to Nowhere had proved a small adventure. Author’s Note: Buffalo is an incorrect name used by many for the American Bison.

Writing Tools Teralyn Cohn - Each line indented. Prose piece in poetry form. Need stanzas for visual of passage of time.

As a novice writer I used a fat pencil and a Big Chief notebook then graduated to notebook paper and #2 pencils. Blue and black pens became the norm as well as cursive script - these tools were my media throughout high school. My first years of college writing relied on written drafts which were transformed to typed final drafts with dreaded footnotes. Then came the age of the personal computer with bells and whistles.My salvation had arrived. My calloused fingers rejoiced.

A keyboard replaced the pen gripped between my fingers and the colorful screen drew the creativity from my soul. While the font remained black, I often included clip art on the side illustrating my point, emphasizing my argument.The thesaurus was my friend, and soon it was electronic as well. The tapping of the keys became the percussion and rhythm section establishing the beat and flow of my literary song. Publishing on the world wide web was just around the corner.

Today I use many tools to deliver my message; pen and paper are the foundation of writing but seldom used. Word processing software and electronic delivery are the norm as texting on my phone is the new media I use to connect with my world. The SCKWP summer institute is my editor and muse; consistent encouragement to develop my skill and vision thoroughly. Poetry, essays, research, then writing with actual images to represent words. I am a writer still in process, but a master of so much.

Finding Peace for Sleep by Liz Peterson

One moment I was deep in a beautiful dream, the next I was awake. I felt a deep sense of dread but I wasn't even aware of the reason that panic consumed me. Then, in an instant I realized what had created the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was almost 1 o'clock and my son wasn't home. Where could he be? My mind began to race as it explored all of the possibilities; as always, my worst fear jumped to the front. Could it be an accident? Please Lord, watch over him, let him be safe, guide him and lead him. These words are frequently recited. Should I text him? This is an issue between the two of us. If I text him he will answer me in a text while driving down the road, something I absolutely insist he doesn't do. I finally decided to give him a call, but just as I fumbled for the phone, searched my contacts, and pressed "send", I heard his key in the door. He quietly entered my room with an apology on his lips. Something about how his two friends just had to stop at McDonald's before they could make their way home. He would be asleep before his head hit the pillow. Easy sleep is a gift wasted on the young, who don't appreciate it.

Now it is time to settle down and go to sleep myself. Ha! I am wired for sound! How will I ever accomplish such a feat? I know I need to quiet my mind and refocus. That will surely settle me down! This is an amazing task for a worrier such as myself. Where to find peace? What is my special place? I'll picture a place, and try to capture a momentwhen I felt in harmony with the world and complete contentment. Maybe I'll try our last major vacation to Mexico. That was definitely my favorite vacation, and I am wound tight, so I will give it a try.

First a deep breath and then I find myself experiencing a Christmas unlike any other. This was not a Christmas like we have here in Kansas where it is cold, the wind blows, and the scenery is dormant. Under my back is a sandy, warm, beach chair. There is just a hint of grit on my fluffy towel, after all life isn’t perfect. A salty breeze blows through the air carrying quiet strains of calypso music. Before me is the expanse of the turquoise sea with gentle waves rolling in. The sun warming my toes is like a soft warm blanket. I am hypnotized. Above our heads I can just glimpse the palm trees gently swaying.

As I lounge in this spot, next to my oldest son, I am at complete peace. For a rare moment he is motionless. His fingers aren’t tapping away at a text message, no loud obnoxious friends around, just he and I. Such serenity washes over me.

In front of us in the water is the rest of my family. They are laughing and diving into the waves. Occasionally they glance my way to give a wave. My husband looks like an enormous boy; he is laughing, jumping, and throwing his arms up in the air. This is vacation man, and when I get a glimpse of him in this state, I remember why I fell in love with him in the first place. All his cares and worries were left somewhere over the Caribbean. Next to him are my other two children All three are waving my direction. There is my second son, part boy, part man. He is so goal oriented that raw energy courses through his veins. When he goes to sleep, he will actually twitch and jerk until all the energy is released. But... at this moment he is completely relaxed as the waves lift his body and gently deposit him on the sandy shore. Within an arm's distance is my beautiful daughter. She is always so self-conscious, constantly worrying about her appearance and what others think. Yet, at this moment she doesn't seem to notice another soul. With the rise of the wave they appear then disappear as the water joins the sea. I feel such delight watching the experience they are having. Who will catch the biggest wave?

I am almost at peace as I recall one moment with no worries in my life. I wish I didn't worry so much, but guess that is just part of who I am. I thank the Lord for the blessings bestowed upon me, and I ask for care of others. Finally...finally...I feel sleep overtaking me.

Caro Mary DeVries

“Goodnight Teddy”. Caro stood up and patted his shoulder as she turned and walked to the door where Nanny Grimm stood. Wearily Caro stretched and yawned. Teddy’s cold would mend now as the fever had broken. She could leave him in Nanny’s care and get some sleep. “ The fever is down, Nanny.” “Aye, Miss Caro. I know,but he’d not be quiet until you came and sat with him.” “Well, he should sleep and so shall I. Thank you for calling me.” Caro slipped put in the hall lit only by the moonlight that silvered the oak paneling and the worn carpet. Pulling her wool wrapper closer she started to her door. “Miss Caro”, The voice startled her even though she recognized it. " Miss Caro, it ‘s me, Charley. Nick needs you, Pie is foaling, and she is in trouble. Nanny said I could wait here in the hall. Will you come, Miss?” “ Yes. Go tell Nick. I’ll dress and be down.” What was that saying her mother had had that all things come in threes. She was physically tired and emotionally drained. Too much had been heaped on her shoulders since Uncle William had died. Shaking herself,she went into her room and pulled out her oldest woolen dress. It would be cold in the stone stable.
 * “Nite Caro”, the curly headed child lisped pulling the covers to his chin and closing his eyes.

Hours later the sun was warming the cobbled stable yard and the stone stable wall as Caro brushed straw off her dress which was damp with blood and birth fluid. The foal a coal black stud had just stood and was now nuzzling for breakfast. His birth had been long and difficult. causing Caro to reach into Pie’s womb to turn him to the proper position. So much depended on this one foal. “He’s a fine one, Miss Caro. The image of his sire. He’ll fire the Dragonseed line.” “ I hope so, Nick. Call me if you need.” She pulled her cloak together and left the stable. The foal was indeed promising. Large and lively despite a tough birth perhaps he would indeed be the saving of the Dragonseed Stables. With Uncle William's estate, poor that it was, entailed to an unknown male in London, the Dragonseed horses were her only chance to support herself and Teddy. When the new Earl arrived, she, Teddy and the horses would move. She’d found an old manor house and stable she could rent. She could do it. No, she had to do it for Teddy and for Hannah, his mother and her sister who had died at his birth. Entering the kitchen’s warmth, she leaned against the doorjamb for a moment. Hanging the cloak on the peg, she went to the washstand and began to wash the stable grime from her hands and face. Patting her chestnut locks somewhat in place she started up the back stairs when a man’s voice caught her attention. “If Lady Caroline is here, I must see her and the sooner the better.” the pompous and deeply resonant voice demanded. She recognized the voice of her uncle's barrister. Now what? She wiped her hands on her skirt and went down the steps forgetting the stained woolen dress and entered the main passageway to the main hall. “ Sir Charles, why are you demanding to see me?” “Lady Caroline,” One gray eyebrow on the raised as the rounded face of the speaker looked at her closely.” As you know, I am Sir William's attorney from London, and I am here according to his dictates in his will.” “His will? Did he have a will? I mean with the entail, did he need a will? “ Perhaps you’d like to change. Your uncle’s will states that I must acquaint you with his terms at 10 and there is time to make yourself comfortable.” Recalling her attire, Caro nodded and turned to the stairs.

Gerald Mace knocked on the door of the sedate stone townhouse. He knew Darren would be there, but somehow the news he carried in his case would strike a double blow to his best friend delivered in the house of his current mistress. Still William Clare's will had stated it must be read to both heirs at 10 am on the point, and it was now nearly the appointed hour. He knocked again louder this time. "Mr. Clare is occupied, Mr. Mace" " I imagine he is Raven, but he has no choice. This is of the utmost importance and he must hear it now. It is a matter of law. Bring him to the study." The word law had the intended effect and Raven bowed deeply as he shut the door. Then extending a hand toward the study, he turned and moved swiftly toward the front stairs. Minutes later he returned followed by a rumpled and yawning Darren Clare. Even in that state he moved with an iron grace indicating leashed power. " What are you doing Gerald? Unlike you to bother me after a late night you shared." " No choice I am afraid. Father put this on my shoulders this day as he knew I'd find you. It is Clare's will. It is not I am afraid a simple entail, and he wanted it to be read to all his heirs at ten today. It is now ten." " So read it man. I doubt it will shake me much. The estate is not so large and lord knows I have no need of its income. However the Dragonseed breeding stock is something I am ready to deal with.."

" All right Darren. But I warn you"

" Ten is the hour and it is passing read the thing." Darren flung himself into a chair.

" To my heirs Darren and Caroline; Caro, my girl, the land is entailed and try as I might there is no way but for it to go to Darren. I know this pains you as this house has been your home for ten years now and the lands admirably suited for the breeding of the Dragonseed stable. To you I leave as I promised the the stable as I promised. I can do this as it stands apart from the entail as it came with my beloved Letty, your mother's sister, when we married. Darren, you will have the title, another for your string and the estate. My late older brother left you well off and his title is the greater of the two clares may carry. Still knowing it is the horses you admire and hope to work with,and knowing Caroline's need for a protector I have added a clause to the entail. It is a simple one--- for either of you to gain your inheritance you must marry within the month and remain married. In addition you must produce an heir within two years. Male or female all goods will be entailed on to that child. Failure to meet with this clause will allow the estate to be managed as an orphan asylum in your name Darren and the Dragonseed line will be managed by Gerald until another eligible relative on Letty's side is found to take it on.

I know this is high handed and that neither of you have met the other, but I believe you will suit. So having found a legal way to keep the estate and the stable joined, I wish you joy with each other.

Your Uncle, William Clare

"MARRY? Within the month? I doubt it. I have no need of the estate or the income. What is this woman- as ugly as a post, so stupid, or cross-eyed that she can not catch her own mate? Leg shackled to a country ninny, never. I will not be put to stud like a stallion. Break the codicil, Gerald."

"Father wrote the codicil Daren and you know as well as I his work always stands. If you truly want to be part of the stable, you will marry Caroline Steephaven. Father has just read the letter to her, and I imagine she is not fond of it either. Especially if she knows of your reputation." Gerald closed his portfolio and leaned back in the chair. It was not often one had the upper hand with Clare and he was quite enjoying it.

"My reputation. And just what is my reputation, sir. Am I not welcome in the homes of the ton, at Almancks, at court?" Darren rose. He paced to the desk and bracing himself on his fists he leaned over the expanse of cherry wood coming nose to nose with his best friend.

"Of course but the world knows of your mistresses and the number there have been since you came of age. Mamas want you for their daughters for your looks and wealth, but they want you in their own beds. In short you are considered a rake but one that has not yet gone so far as to offend the ton. Or perhaps your titles and riches purchase you leeway!”

A grin spread over Darren's face. "Am I now? Perhaps I should oblige some of the mamas.” It might prove interesting. No, I will make no man wear horns. Even I, a rake as you term me, must have some rules. Tell me about the girl."

Gerald choked but realized the question implied that Clare might do as the will demanded. He should be glad of that but having met Caroline and admiring her will to survive, he wondered what he should reveal. " She is hardly a girl-- twenty to your thirty. She is tall, slim, pretty. She has not come out because she is she has duties that keep her at Woodbury Manor. "

" Duties? Ah yes, Uncle Will was a widower. She kept his house?"

Gerald nodded and forged on. " Not only his house. Caroline is the manager of the Dragonseed stables She oversees its entire operation including the breeding."

" She what? That is not seemly. If I agree, that will stop!"

" I rather doubt that as the line has been managed by females since its beginning in the time of destriders. The bloodlines are in her head not in a well kept studbook. Besides she like you has the temperament that goes with her red hair. You will not find her willing to be a docile bystander. . And " Gerald hesitated,

" And she has a temperament like me because she and I both have red hair. And what else?"  "And there is a child, Teddy."

" Egad! Uncle Will, what have you done?" none ||  ||  || 
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"> <span style="color: rgb(192,192,192); font-family: Georgia, serif;"> Playing the Hand You’re Dealt Patrick Kennedy There’s an old adage that you have to ‘play the hand you’re dealt.’ C. S. Lewis originally said, “You play the hand you're dealt. I think the game's worthwhile,” seemingly suggesting that whether you win or lose, at least you played the game. Yet whenever I hear the more famous segment of the quote, I always revert to the idea that you can’t expect more than what you start with and you do the best you can with what you have. The quote clearly deals with cards of some sort, most likely poker. Being a game of probability, poker names the Royal Flush, a combination of a straight and a flush involving the Ace, King, Queen, Jack, and ten of the same suit, to be the most valuable hand. Forgetting the fact that they rarely happen, it’s nearly impossible to be dealt just one of the needed five and pick up the remaining four on the draw. It’s definitely possible, but remarkably asinine to expect it. Hence, players often abandon the search for the Royal Flush and aspire to something else. It’s just playing the hand you’re dealt. As is the case with truly memorable quotes, this saying transcends its original intent and applies to a variety of practical situations. For me, it dates back to a single smile. I met her solely by chance, but one thing about her will stay with me forever; an illuminating smile as big as the sun and twice as breathtaking. Though the encounter was brief, just the sight was enough to make me consider looking for the Royal Flush when I held but a single heart. I didn’t get out much at that time and lived with three guys that partied as much as a nunnery. For that reason, I was open to about anything my roommates suggested as long as it got me out of the house. Mostly, these endeavors amounted to nothing more than dinner, a movie, or a trip to Wal-Mart. So when I was invited to go to a movie by one roommate and a party by another on the same Saturday, it seemed to be the perfect storm. I worked it out so that I’d attend church at five, go to the movie at seven, be at the party by nine, and go home around three or four in the morning, hence the importance of church at five. My roommate Mark agreed to drive to the theater then bring me home so I could go to the party. Mark desperately wanted to see the movie for two reasons: one, it was reviewed to be the funniest movie of the summer, and two, we were going to meet up with a friend of his whom he used to work with. She would only be in town for a few more days, and he had seen little of her. Compounded with the fact that the movie just opened in theaters, Mark feared the seven o’clock showing would be sold out. His concern turned out to be so great that when I returned from church, I barely had enough time to change clothes before racing off to the movie. Mark and I arrived about thirty minutes prior to show time. We pulled into the parking lot which was surrounded by a few restaurants still packed with the dinner crowd and a bowling alley. Movie posters adorned the outside wall of the classically styled theater. The front side of the building was enveloped in neon lights and held a grand marquee just above the ticket booth. A single line stood outside inviting most transactions to take place within. We entered the lobby and walked across the shining marble floor. We made our purchase quickly and no sooner had I signed the receipt that I headed for the restroom. Having left in such a hurry, the pit stop was vital. Walking past the arcade and concession stand, I entered the men’s room. While washing my hands, a worst case scenario popped into my head. I had had occasion to meet Erin before. Whilst there wasn’t any animosity between us, she was definitively Mark’s friend. A kind word here and there, a joke and a laugh every now and then was about as far as we went. Forget the fact that Mark was excited about seeing her and would spend most of the time talking to her, the last thing I needed was her sitting between us so I’d never get a word in edgewise. It was no fault of hers but dealt more with my social awkwardness. Such a concern would become a moot point once I rejoined Mark in the lobby. Frantically looking at his phone, Mark was anxious as his friend had not yet arrived. He muttered something to himself, looked at the time, and then looked at me. “I don’t think they’re gonna be here for a while,” he said. “If I give you the money, will you go outside with me and buy a ticket, too?” Going outside was necessary because you couldn’t purchase extra tickets for an R-rated movie. I nodded without really paying attention, but after I refocused myself it hit me: why were we buying two more tickets? The movie was playing in the grand auditorium so there was very little chance of it being sold out. Not to mention the fact that everything I had been told certainly pointed to a party of three. I could only assume this meant that Erin’s husband would be joining us for the movie. While it wasn’t time to hit the panic button, I definitely could’ve drawn a better hand. The few times I met Jude, he said at most two words to me. It was suddenly imperative to my sanity that I sit next to Mark. It was still warm out despite the breeze that had started sometime after we had entered the theater. We joined the short line in front of the ticket box. We weren’t aware of it at the time, but at the front of the line was either the largest ticket purchase in the history of modern cinema or the most inept exchange between customer and clerk in recorded history. Regardless, over the next five minutes we stood in line waiting for the transaction to conclude. When it finally ended, we had two people still in front of us. Mark scanned the parking lot. His eyes focused in on someone, “Good, she’s here,” he said. I turned around and saw a brunette in sunglasses wave at us. About five people had joined the line since we arrived, and Erin was apparently content to stand at the end of the line and wait. Mark looked back at her, frowned, and then nodded his head to side, motioning for her to come join us. I looked for but didn’t see Jude as I gave Mark his money and took a step out of line. Erin joined us. She said hi to Mark with a beaming smile on her face. I turned to say hello, took one look at the person standing next to me, and realized I had no idea who this is. From far away, she did look similar to Erin, but up close it was clearly not her. It was only then I really took note of that amazing smile. The first time I truly saw it, it bowled me over. It took me a second to remember where I was and what I was doing. Someone might as well have pinched me because I doubted that this brunette beauty was really standing in front of me. Nothing about her seemed artificial or forced to stand out, it simply happened on its own and more than anything, it was her smile. She was dressed in a pearl skirt and lavender blouse. I started to feel horridly underdressed in my basketball shorts, T-shirt, Chuck Taylors and backwards ball cap. Yet, I felt no discomfort or uneasiness; she alleviated me of all of that somehow. “Are you Pat?” she asked. Mark was still focused on the ticket box, so I smiled and replied, “Yeah.” She held out a hand and I shook it. It was apparent that she knew me by reputation which I could only assume was built around being a jokester. Since she knew me through Mark, and we had lived together for five years and been friends for five years before that, that meant he had a plethora of stories. Hopefully not all of them had been told. Before I could say anything else in reply, it dawned on Mark that I didn’t know whose hand I was shaking. He whipped around and made the belated introduction, “Yeah,” he said pointing to me, “this is Pat,” then pointing to her, “and this is Allison.” “I love your shirt,” she said. I had to look to remind myself that I was wearing a Kansas Jayhawks shirt. Mark chuckled, “Yeah, she’s a big KU fan.” “Well,” I said, “I do have good taste.” Allison laughed and then stepped forward in line. The name rang a bell. I didn’t know much about her; Mark had mentioned her a few times when she started working with him. During the course of telling work stories, her name would be mentioned from time to time but with no real consistency. While we waited, Mark informed us that Erin left her house moments ago, but he didn’t know how close she lived to the theater. Some work banter began which I didn’t concern myself with. Instead I played Tetris on my cell phone. After I finished a quick game, I looked up and saw Erin, this time positive it was her. Mark had just purchased her ticket so the three of us stood off to the side as Allison bought hers. A minute passed and we were ready to go. The cards had been dealt. I may not have been dealt anything to help my lonely Ace of hearts but much still needed to be determined. We re-entered the theater and again walked past the arcade. The girls stopped by the powder room momentarily. Mark and I waited off to the side leaning against a wall. No sooner were the two of them out of ear shot when I turned to Mark and began to test the strength of the hand I’d been dealt, “She’s cute.” After I said it, it sounded funny in my head. Not because it wasn’t true but because I rarely used such terminology. Also add the fact that in the last ten years the only expression a guy would use to describe a girl he found attractive was hot. But the commonality of that terminology would have minimized the true rarity of what my eyes had beheld. It seemed remiss to say anything else. I put the thought off to the side as Mark replied, “Yeah, she’s got a lawyer boyfriend, though.” I was shocked but not surprised he had read my intentions so well. “Yikes,” I said. “Yeah, they live together,” Mark said. “It’s kind of unfortunate because he’s kind of a jerk. He never comes out with her and hangs out with us, ya know?” I nodded. “I mean he’s an alright guy, but I haven’t seen him that much. She’s really cool though.” As I continued to get the insight on Allison’s boyfriend, who clearly held a hand that trumped mine, I feigned interest and scanned the room looking at nothing in particular. I took a glance at the concession stand in the middle of the lobby, looked at the diner adjacent to the theater, and even peeked outside for a moment. I barely noticed when Mark’s voice began to trail off. Since he was still talking about Allison and her boyfriend, I took that to mean the girls were back. I popped off the wall and we started walking towards the ticket-takers. As we entered the grand auditorium, a familiar thought jumped to my head. I hadn’t been paying attention since I was getting used to the unfamiliar company and attempting to get a feel for all the cards on the table, but my worst-case scenario was playing out in front of me. Out of habit, I had let the ladies go ahead of me to have their tickets taken. Mark entered through the double-doors first, followed by Erin, Allison, and finally me. If the order held, I’d be sitting on the other side of Mark with possibly no one to talk to. Although, sitting next to Allison was a thought I could warm up to. We entered the main floor of the auditorium which seated around nine hundred people and held a screen the size of a football field. To our left and far right were two small sections of seats with a larger section in the middle. Above us stretched a balcony that was reserved seats only. As I glanced around I noticed the back of the theater was already full enough so that we couldn’t find four connected seats. We went about half way to the front and then sat at the end of a row in the middle section. Mark took a seat four chairs in, Erin sat next to him, Allison sat next to her, and I sat next to Allison. The chairs in the theater had always been comfortable. Red, plush seats with a slight recline that you could just about sink into. I got comfortable in my seat and took a quick glimpse at the crowd. For a seven o’clock movie, there was a fair number. More would assuredly arrive; we had about five minutes before the show started. As I turned back around, two young ladies came to the row and asked if the seats next to Mark were taken. He shook his head and replied he didn’t think so, so they made their way to the seats. Erin and Mark started talking, most likely about the girls that walked by, and Allison surprisingly turned to me and asked, “So do you think it’ll be a good movie?” I almost didn’t reply since I had expected to be on the outside of the conversation bubble, “Well,” I said, “it should be pretty good.” She almost didn’t let me finish before she smiled again and said, “It should, shouldn’t it? I mean if it’s half as good as the previews it’ll be good. I knew I wanted to see it as soon as I saw the first preview.” I smiled and nodded, “I know what you mean. I saw it watching TV one night, just walked into Mark’s room, and told him, ‘You realize what we have to do right? You realize we have to see this?’” Allison laughed, perhaps at was the image of me bursting in Mark’s room demanding we go without even explaining myself, as she added, “On opening weekend, right?” “Oh absolutely,” I said feeling better about my hand, “I’ll fight the crowds. Normally, I don’t want to bother, but I didn’t even care for this one.” She continued to laugh when Erin interrupted to ask Allison a question. A minute later, Allison began to tell me about a movie she had seen recently. She admitted she didn’t care for it that much because it was an action movie but wanted to know if I liked that genre. I admitted that I would eventually see the movie if for no other reason than it would be on TV and I’d have nothing else to watch. Again, she laughed. “I can’t get over how big this place is,” she commented. Though I had been here before, I took a quick look around with her, “I take it this is your first time in the grand auditorium?” “Yes, it is,” she replied with a certain fervor, “I was excited when I saw we’d be in here.” “The first time is always special, isn’t it?” Allison shrugged, “If the movie is a good one.” “I would think it has to be now.” Unsure of my conviction, Allison gave me a quizzical look before asking, “What makes you so sure?” “Oh, are you kidding?” I replied, “The first time in the big theater, no one sees a bad movie; it’d be downright criminal.” Again the smile gleamed on her face, “That makes sense. But with such a big screen I’m afraid I’m gonna miss something.” I offered a simple solution, “Well, I tell ya what, I’ll keep track of the left side of the screen and let you know if you miss anything; you keep track of the right side of the screen and let me know if I miss anything.” A hand shake sealed the deal. Being in the grand auditorium brought back memories of my own times watching the big screen. I told Allison about one unique occasion when Mark and I attended a special midnight premiere. A wonderful experience that proved to be a lot of fun, we attended a highly anticipated pirate movie. In a somewhat embarrassing moment, we spotted a friend of ours ahead of us in line. On this particular night, he had adorned himself in pirate garb and carried a fake sword in his sheath. Even his girlfriend dressed as a pirate wench. Perhaps it was a bit vain, but we preferred to be unnoticed at that point. But as the fates would have it, he spotted us a few minutes later and came over to talk to us. Allison didn’t believe me at first, but I assured her it was true. As both of us laughed, I suddenly realized what was going on. Number one, Allison had proved herself to be as cool as Mark had advertised. Her outgoing personality complemented her looks. Her smile was a work of art. The fact that she could hold a conversation with me was deserving of a medal. Number two, I was quickly becoming enamored. Honestly, she was quite captivating, but at best this would be an exercise in futility. Forgo the fact that we just met, she was involved in a steady relationship. But I shook it off, called it a stupid whim, and ignored the thought. This isn’t flirting, I assured myself; you’re blowing this out of proportion to astronomical extremes, just play the hand. With my newfound resolve, I went back to just enjoying the evening. One of the other reasons I was so distraught about sitting away from Mark was because it infringed on one of our time honored traditions. Though he hated the notion, he always found himself entrapped in what I casually referred to as ‘the curtain conversation.’ Outside the main auditorium, the other theaters typically held a multi-colored curtain. I liked to spend a few moments, much to Mark’s dismay, commenting on the arrangement, distribution, and overall appeal of the color scheme. However, the main auditorium greatly detracted from the conversation because it always had a full red curtain with the company logo smack dap in the middle of it. Still, tradition was tradition, and I could not let an opportunity pass me by. Casually, I tapped Allison on the shoulder and she leaned in to listen. “Now I should warn you,” I began, “of a time-honored tradition I hold called the curtain conversation.” I paused for effect though I knew not what effect to expect. Regardless, she seemed intrigued and requested that I explain which I obliged. Allison wasn’t entirely sure how to react to such a concept but laughed and actually got the conversation rolling, “Well, it’s pretty red.” “Yes,” I said, “this is not a very good curtain to talk about.” I went on to explain the variety of curtains found throughout the rest of the building which formed a basis to discuss the current curtain. Allison, however, put her own spin on the discussion, “It does have a nice folding pattern to it, creates some nice shadows,” she said. In the two years prior to this movie, I had attended about a movie a month which would equal at minimum twenty-four movies seen and twenty-four curtain conversations forced from my fellow companions. None of those conversations delved to the depths that that conversation reached that evening. The thought bounced back into my head that I was developing a ‘thing’ for this girl. Before the conversation could go on, the curtain rose and the lights dimmed. I quickly put the idea out of my head. For the next two hours I was given the opportunity to lose myself within the confines of a fantastical world which I took full advantage of. I forced myself to be solely concerned with the events occurring within the borders of the screen ahead of me. True to form, the movie was comic genius and had the audience in stitches from beginning to end. Despite the crude nature of the humor presented, everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Every now and then, I would catch myself dropping my guard and glancing over at Allison. Common sense told me that this was more of a guy movie and the humor wasn’t in taste of the female persuasion. Yet, to my surprise, Allison was laughing along with everyone else and in some instances leading the charge. If I didn’t catch myself soon enough, I would find myself raising the stakes more and more by admitting that something was indeed developing as it pertained to this woman. The look of that smile couldn’t leave my mind. It was becoming clear to me that if I allowed myself to, I could very quickly and suddenly fall for her. Then I’d find myself playing for that ever elusive Royal Flush. By the time the credits ran, my cheeks hurt from laughing. As the lights brightened the theater, I pushed out to the edge of my chair and turned to face my party. Mark and Erin were laughing and talking, so I turned to Allison, “So, was the first movie in the big theater worth it?” That illuminating smile still shined on her face, “Oh yeah,” she said and then repeated. “It was amazing. The guy with the glasses…hysterical.” I quickly agreed, “He’s funny in pretty much everything he does.” I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Mark was looking at me. A quick glance over and he motioned that they were ready to go. On the way out we talked about our favorite parts of the movie, laughing again and again at the jokes. In the parking lot, we started to go our separate ways when Mark stopped everyone. He had told me earlier that he might go to the party if he had nothing else to do. It hadn’t made sense before, but it did now. If Erin wanted to hang out and catch up, he was going to do that since it could be months before he saw her again. That caused an idea to form in my head; if Allison goes with them, why not just ditch the party and spend the evening with her? I had had a good time after all, and Allison and I were getting along. I might as well call with the hand I held, and see what came my way. Considering we would rarely see each other anyway, I might as well make that first impression last. After all, who knows what the future holds and what lies in the cards? “So, Erin you’re gonna come back to our house,” I only caught part of the conversation, but it was clear Mark wouldn’t be going to the party. The more and more I thought about it, I wasn’t going either. It almost made sense to just ditch it and have the best time I could. “What about you, Allison?” Mark asked, “You wanna come too?” She thought hard about it. Most likely, she had something else she should be doing, but really did want to go out and be with her friends. Finally, she came to a decision, “Yeah, why not? I’ll come.” It was settled. It was a better call to pass on the party and stick with the group I was with. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for my invitation to join in. Right on cue, Mark turned to me, “What about you?” he asked, “You gonna stick around or head to the party?” I had to hold back my own shock as I replied, “I’m gonna go to the party.” Mark nodded and then we all searched for our cars. Erin broke off first, but Allison was struggling to find hers. When she finally located it, she asked for directions from Mark and we exchanged that it was nice to have met each other. For the moment, I couldn’t figure out why I passed on Mark’s offer, and then it hit me. I was dealt a nice hand, had some laughs and shared a nice evening. I might have pulled a small straight or even a flush, but I needed the rare combination of the two. I had anted up, played the game, taken my chances, but wasn’t about to take the pot. I could’ve called, put myself out there, maybe picked up the Jack, King, and ten to go with my Ace, but the Queen of hearts would not be mine. Some might say that I was being pessimistic, cynical, or defeatist, but in all honesty, I was just playing the hand I was dealt.